


Memory

by Iolaire02



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Acceptance, Canon Compliant, Memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:35:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21812278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iolaire02/pseuds/Iolaire02
Summary: “It’s not the dying that makes death significant. It’s the utter permanence of the condition.” - Unknown
Kudos: 2





	Memory

**Author's Note:**

> The quote used for the summary may not be by an Unknown, but I wrote it down ages ago, without the person's name, if it was there, and couldn't find it again. Credit where credit is due: that quote is - unfortunately - not mine.

He’s watched the memory of that night a thousand times. Each time desperate to know what happened, to know who was responsible. 

He knows it’s partially his fault that his family fell apart, that only he and his brother are left. His ambition - his decisions - absolutely destroyed the bonds he had with his sister and brother.

And now, his sister is dead, and his brother has pushed him away. They’ve not spoken since the funeral, since Aberforth’s fist slammed into his nose. He thinks he likely deserved it. Knows he deserved it, but cannot swallow around that truth.

(Everyone slanders Slytherins for their ambition, and maybe they're right. Maybe it's ambition that ruins a person, that shatters families. It has certainly broken his.) 

He’s not known who was responsible for Arianna’s death, has always dreaded finding out because it might have been him who killed his little sister. _Avada Kedavra_ fell from his lips, too, and the guilt has been crushing him for years. 

He almost doesn’t want to know because he’s convinced himself that he’s not responsible, that everything he’s done has been for the Greater Good. But how could it be if he killed his own sister, no matter if it was an accident. 

He dips his head into the pensieve one last time. He knows he’ll likely die tonight, and he wants to leave the earth _knowing._

He watches the memory one last time. Inspecting it carefully, hoping against hope that _he_ didn’t say the words that killed his baby sister. 

He tried asking her, when he got the stone from Tom’s horcrux. She had smiled sweetly, her eyes heartbreakingly sad. Frozen in time, in death, at fourteen. Told him he knew who had done it, to look beyond his fear. Told him she was disappointed in him for tearing their family apart, for using children in a war, for keeping so many secrets, and he’s drowning in guilt, because he did. He did all of that, and he can’t fix it now, and he thinks maybe he does know, but either way, he dreads the answer. 

He steps out of the pensive, and he’s finally got his answer after ninety-eight years. And all he can feel is relief; he doesn’t quite care if he dies anymore because he knows he’ll see his baby sister and mother and father again, and he can finally, finally apologize.

So he drinks the potion, re-lives the memory he’s already re-lived a thousand times, and it hurts; he’s screaming and crying and apologizing. It hurts, but he knows who was responsible, and somehow that makes it hurt a little bit less, though it still weakens him.

He’s going to die tonight. It’s time; he’s prepared for the future, he’s prepared for his death. He’s ready, as he clutches his destroyed hand to his chest, as he persuades, as he pleads, as he stares into green. 

He has finally accepted his past. It is time to accept his present. This is acceptance.


End file.
